


Forever Bride

by Servetolive



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Extramarital Affairs, M/M, Mama!Cloud, Marriage, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, just for fun, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Snippets of Cloud and Don Corneo in an idyllic relationship.
Relationships: Don Corneo/Cloud Strife, Leslie Kyle/Cloud Strife, Reno/Cloud Strife
Comments: 16
Kudos: 53





	Forever Bride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powerofsand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerofsand/gifts).



> This is an arbitrary, not quite linear, fun little fic I wrote for my cousin to chill after writing heavy stuff for a while. ^-^ I'll probably add stuff to it as things come to me or are suggested.

The first surprise had been that he was a man at all. The second came when he wanted to keep him, and the third came when he agreed to stay.

The fourth surprise was the baby. The Don had no idea that he wanted or even liked kids, but his heir was the apple of his eye, and Cloud became his undisputed queen after that.

His men didn’t like having a mistress that could kick their ass. Between the two of them, life at the mansion changed forever. They were like whipping boys, all except for Leslie, who knew how to treat people. Tall brick and mortar walls were built to surround his compound and protect his new treasures.

\--

On the weekends, Cloud made breakfast for the entire household in the full kitchen just outside the main door. He had converted it into a patio at Cloud’s insistence during his second pregnancy, when it became apparent that going out was neither practical nor desirable for him. 

It was the one time that his lackeys had no fear of his power over their boss, and the occasion was usually a pleasant one, if the weather permitted.

Madam M had agreed to stop by and join them, bringing along sweets for the children and a hand cream for Cloud. Corneo greeted her at the gate, shirtless, in his robe and pajama pants. They exchanged kisses on the cheek, and he showed her to her seat, next to him, rather than his goons.

“Is he showing yet?” she asked, eagerly, twirling her fan.

Corneo’s eyes changed at any mention of his bride. His face reddened, and he smiled uncontrollably when he imagined how Cloud had looked the last time, belly swollen with rosy skin and shining cheeks.

“Not yet,” he said pleasantly, as he poured her a glass of champagne with one hand and took a drag from his cigar from the other. “It’s only the first trimester, you know.”

“Oh, look at you!” She laughed, showing her white teeth. “The experienced father.”

Corneo’s chest swelled with pride. “There’s nothing like it, M. Hopefully, these fools here--” he gestured to Scotch and Kotch, the latter mid-yawn, “--will know what it’s like to become real men soon enough.”

At that moment, the door opened and Cloud emerged with the four month old on his hip, and Corneo’s little mirror at his side, escorted by Leslie. Leslie took the boy by his hand to help him down the step, and Cloud nodded his thanks.

“There he is--my sugar plum!”

Cloud had gotten past the misery of nausea and vomiting that confined him to his room in the first few weeks of each pregnancy. It was the first Saturday that he had bothered to look cute. While pregnant, he preferred to be comfortable, and wore a set of jean overall shorts, with the expensive gold and jade bangles that both Corneo and M insisted brought fortune to him and his unborn child.

Of course, Corneo would have preferred to have him in fine silks at all hours of the day, but Cloud would not hear of it. He wanted to be reminded of his home in this condition, and he did his utmost to make his new life reminiscent of his old one.

“Ahem!” Corneo nearly barked. 

Scotch and Kotch both immediately stood at the table to bow. “Mistress Corneo,” they said in begrudging unison.

Cloud walked right past them to greet The Don, whose mouth spread into an open beam.

“My kitten.” He leaned up to kiss him, then the baby. He giggled, rubbed his hands together and opened his arms, but Cloud pulled away at the last second.

“Cigar,” he warned, turning the baby away from him. 

“What? Oh!” Corneo reached over to mash his expensive cigar into an ashtray. “Here you are, sweetheart--oh, yes!” Only then did Cloud allow a kiss, and then released the child to his father to make his rounds.

“Papa.” Leslie brought the eldest around to wish his father a good morning. 

Corneo turned his attention to his eldest, and stood proudly to wait for his greeting, at Leslie’s direction. “Remember to bow,” he whispered.

Aside from his blue eyes, he was the spitting image of the Don, complete with the tuft of hair on the top of his head. He nodded at Leslie, and bowed respectfully. “Good morning to you.”

The Don returned the gesture with a belly laugh and a wide beam. His son was the only person he would ever bow to.

“And good morning to _you,_ little Prince. Helping your mother with breakfast, today…?”

Cloud gave M a polite nod for a bow. “M,” he said.

“You’re looking well, Cloud,” she said, patting his stomach with her fan. “A bit skinny, I would say, though…”

“I’m eating as much as I can.”

“Try more sweet things. Perhaps kellnuts, or sangribal.”

Cloud shook his head, the gold rings bouncing off the sides of his neck. The idea of consuming anything that he didn’t agree with made him nauseous. “I don’t like those.”

“Then perhaps things from your native land?”

“My mother is bringing ashberries and woodgrapes when she comes.”

M spread her fan with a _thak._ “And when will that be?”

“A month.”

“A month?” M turned to her drink and wet her lips. “You’ll starve before then. When she comes, be sure to let me know. We can use the new mah jong set I bought you…”

Cloud nodded, and left her to tend to the stove, beckoning his son at his side. The Don would leave the next day on business to Wutai, and it would be the last breakfast with all of them together for a time. He intended for it to be the first time their eldest would serve his father, and it was an important milestone in both their cultures to do so.

//

Seeing Corneo off for a business trip was usually a more difficult affair for him and the children than Cloud. It wasn’t that Cloud wouldn’t particularly miss his presence, but he always had a hard time missing anyone, no matter how he felt about them. Besides that, the men at the mansion were lazier and difficult to work with in his absence, particularly when Cloud was so indisposed. 

He had the children dressed and the household lined up to bid their well wishes.

The baby hadn’t enough sense to miss him yet, but the heir always wailed. Crying boys were not looked upon kindly in Corneo’s culture, but Cloud never bothered to shush him: missing a father was not something he would allow anyone to take from his son.

“Oh, don’t cry, Prince-y!” He knelt down and pinched Prince’s cheeks. “I’ll bring you back something super cool!” 

“I wanna go with you,” he screamed dramatically. Cloud rolled his eyes, and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He was acting as if he would never see his father again. Like he would be marching off to his death or something and never come back.

“Go on, now,” Cloud said quietly, but sternly. “You’re making it worse.”

Rather than turn heel and walk out, Corneo turned his attention to Cloud and closed in on him. His flair was probably where Prince got his theatrics from.

“And you, Sugar Plum.” He smoothed his palm flat against Cloud’s belly in a sensual manner that made Leslie turn his head and clear his throat, so that the others would follow his action.

His attempt to speak quietly enough for only Cloud to hear failed. 

“Be ready for me when I return, hm?”

“Just hurry back,” Cloud said flatly, shifting his eyes to and fro. “Don’t leave me with these idiots for long.” He corrected himself. “Not you, Leslie.” Leslie nodded under his hat.

Corneo hummed and gave the baby in Cloud’s arms a kiss on the head. “You make sure to give me a ring if there’s any trouble.”

All present besides Cloud bowed their heads as the master of the house exited, bidding a final farewell to his children, and blowing a kiss to his bride.

As soon as the heavy door closed, Cloud whirled on his heel and clapped his hands.

“I want this place cleaned and dusted from top to bottom before sunrise,” he said, turning to the stairs. “I have guests coming in a few days.”

“You heard the man,” Leslie parroted, and then clapped his hands as well. “Chop chop.”

Scotch, Kotch and the other men groaned, and then fell out of their line, like soldiers out of formation. Cloud stopped at the base of the stairs. “Leslie,” he said. “I need your help with the children.”

With the eyes of the others burning his back, Leslie followed Cloud into the nursery, and shut the doors behind him.

//

Domestic life wasn’t what Cloud had planned for himself when he left home, but over the last few years, he was finding that it was much easier than soldiering.

Some things he learned from his time at Shinra helped, too. For example, he was much more efficient at time management than the morons that Corneo hired off of the streets. Running a household wasn’t as much of a mystery as attempting to command a squad or a platoon, not with the assistance of Leslie, and, when he absolutely needed it, Madam M.

But there was a strange comfort in his daily routine that reminded him of the home he left behind; the home he never thought he’d miss until he decided to become a parent. 

He spent his days emulating his mother’s cleaning habits from memory: collecting water from the Don’s personal, purified well, boiling it on the large stove outside, pouring a small amount of disinfectant into it, and scrubbing his childrens’ soiled diapers and articles of clothing by hand on a washboard with a bar of soap that he made himself, based on his late grandmother’s recipe.

The Don couldn’t understand it. Once, while Cloud hung laundry on a clothesline (barefoot and in cutoffs, as the young mothers in his village were often known to do), he came to him, sliding his hands around his waist.

“Kitten, give these chores to the goons,” he purred. “Or send it out.”

Cloud went on with his duties, and pulled a clothespin out of his mouth. “No,” he said, firmly. “I don’t trust them. And why would I send our childrens’ clothing out to who-knows-where when we have a purifier at home?”

“But Sugar,” the Don whined, “You spend _days_ doing this! At least let me buy you a laundry machine!”

Cloud shook one of the baby’s sheets hard into the air, as if it were his answer.

“My mother did this for me. It’s good enough for my children. It’s a waste of money, anyway.”

In the evenings, he read from the same books he owned as a child, sent to him by his mother, sitting on the floor while they played with blocks or went about their business. He was a tad insecure about how he read. He didn’t do voices like Claudia, and recognized that his narration was somewhat monotonous and droning. Nonetheless, he practiced the ritual nightly, regardless of whether the children seemed interested or not.

In time, Prince began to ask questions about the distant land he came from, so different and foreign to them from Wall Market and Midgar’s slums; a place they would likely never see. 

This pleased him so much, and still, he rarely smiled. It just wasn’t his thing.

 _But they know you love them,_ Claudia reassured him in a letter. _Consistency is the key._

He read her letters over and over again, poring through the lines for the only advice he felt safe adhering to. _Children love routines,_ she said. _They will always know that you love them, no matter what you say or don’t say._

And even though every boy he gave birth to would never be truly his, and would leave his safety and comfort for the hypermasculine Wutai-esque crime world that Cloud wanted nothing to do with, he believed his mother was right.

Still didn’t stop him from wishing for a girl, though.

//

Corneo returned in four weeks instead of three. The argument they had over the phone at the end of the third week was so loud that even the double doors to Cloud’s personal rooms couldn’t contain it. 

At one point, Leslie opened them right into the ears of Scotch and Kotch. He shooed them away just in time, before an angry second-trimester Cloud could burst through to find some way to abuse them.

Cloud had the Don on speaker phone as he shoved past the men and tore downstairs in the middle the night.

“But-but, but Sugar--”

“Don’t you ‘Sugar Plum’ me,” Cloud said in a low rumble. “I’m not arguing with you about this. If you think we’re outsourcing _my_ son's education to some second-rate swordsman from Wutai, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“But he’s top bill!”

“He ain’t more top bill than me.”

The way he said the last line sent chills through the goons, and they dispersed before he could direct his anger on them.

"But you're pregnant, honey!" 

"It can wait until I'm not."

"But you're always--!" 

“Leslie.” Cloud whirled in his white, satin robes at the bottom of the staircase. Leslie went to the railing to respond.

“Mistress.”

“I’m starving,” he hissed. “Please go into town and get me dumplings.”

Without complaint, Leslie moved down the stairs. “Fried or boiled?”

“Boiled.”

Leslie all but ran out of the mansion to avoid any further wrath.

"Three orders," Cloud called after him. "And one for yourself."

At that moment, the youngest’s cries reverberated through the mansion.

“See?” Cloud seethed into the phone. “You woke the baby.”

“But I’m not even there--”

 _beep._ Cloud hung the phone up in the Don’s face and stomped up the stairs.

Kotch happened to be on his way down, and flattened himself against the wall as he passed. Scotch had reacted too late, and had Cloud’s hand and lacquered nails in his face, nearly shoving him over the rail.

“Move,” he growled.

Once he got to the doors of the nursery--the room where they had once taken Corneo’s future selections of the night--he turned at the door and barked at them:

“What the hell are you all _staring_ at? What is it that you people _do_ around here, anyway?”

Without waiting for an answer, or a quiver of fear, he allowed the doors to close, loudly complaining that their salaries were better spent on his children, and promising to take it up with the Don when he returned.

After a long moment of fearful silence, Kotch snapped his fingers:

“Get to work,” he said.

Nobody moved. 

“Doing what?”

“Fucking _anything!_ ”

//

When Leslie came into the nursery, Cloud was sitting on the ground near the baby’s bed, with the fitful child’s fingers in his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Leslie whispered, as he sat down next Cloud with the food.

“Clipping his nails,” Cloud whispered back. Carefully, he pressed his teeth down onto the nail, and bit them off. 

“Never seen that before,” Leslie remarked, opening the takeaway box.

The light rustling made Prince stir. Immediately, both men stopped moving, and waited for the eldest to fall back asleep, and turn away from the soft light source.

“It’s how it’s done in Nibelheim,” Cloud said, placing the baby’s arm gingerly back under the blankets.

He turned and took a pair of chopsticks that Leslie offered to him, but then had to set the back down when the baby started up again.

Cloud sighed, and took him up in his arms again to shush him. Leslie ended up having to feed the both of them, taking one bite for himself, then holding another bite over Cloud’s shoulder for him to take in his mouth.

Once the baby was back in his crib, Cloud asked Leslie to massage his shoulders, and he moved behind Cloud to do so. No request was too large for him, not for Cloud.

There was a knot on the right side, which is where he held the children on his hip, near the base of his neck. Cloud closed his eyes and leaned his neck into Leslie’s thumb. It was hard not to make noise. Leslie’s movements were slow and deep.

On the left side, he felt the cool press of Leslie’s lips. He allowed it. Prince was fast asleep and turned in the opposite direction.

It pained him sometimes to think of Leslie, who, despite their mutual affection, had never taken advantage of Cloud or attempted to be indecent with him. He would make a decent husband to someone. As much as he benefited from his presence in the mansion, though, Leslie had no future there. 

_Run away with me,_ Leslie had asked him almost as soon as the Don had left on this latest trip. _Away from this monster._

The suggestion was so absurd that Cloud turned from him and walked out the nursery without any further comment. The Don might have been a monster, but he was a good provider, and a surprisingly well-matched father for his children. 

Leslie could offer him nothing but love and comfort; the former which he had no practical use for and the second he could provide for himself. 

Besides that, even after that most recent rejection, he had opted to stay. Blindly following the heart was not something that Cloud found particularly attractive.

When Cloud was done with his massage, he turned to Leslie and rewarded him with a kiss on the lips. The amber color in Leslie’s eyes darkened, and he nearly fell over in surprise.

“Thank you,” Cloud said, getting up to leave.

//

Corneo’s late night return was marked by a feast prepared by his men, not Cloud. They were quite disappointed to see that he walked past the fineries and made a beeline straight to his bride’s quarters.

"Kitten?" He mewled. 

He found Cloud standing in front of his marbled sink, dabbing his face with astringent. Cloud only glanced at him in the mirror, and sighed.

“You’re back late,” he said, only partially feigning annoyance.

The Don gave him the deep-throated chuckle that usually accompanied his dark thoughts.

“Don’t give me any attitude, Baby Doll,” he said as he placed himself directly behind Cloud, and slid his hands around to his belly. “I’ve been traveling all night just to get to you.” He worked his way up Cloud’s shirt and encircled them around to the front of his torso.

The Don hadn’t done a day’s worth of hard labor in his life, and his hands were soft. His eyes fluttered shut, and he rolled his neck to the side.

“Not quickly enough,” he complained, as one of Corneo’s rings passed over a sensitive nipple. His palms felt good against Cloud’s belly, which had recently gained a bit of dimension.

The Don gasped when he noticed. “Oh my,” he said lewdly, “Is that--”

Just then, Cloud buckled for a moment, and his hand joined the Don’s to catch the flutter.

“He’s kicking!” Corneo squealed.

“Or _she_ ,” Cloud corrected him. 

“Mmm.” Corneo’s hand moved down past the small curve of the belly, and toward his crotch. He absolutely loved the way pregnancy changed Cloud’s body and made him somehow softer and more feminine. “What other new surprises do you have for me, hm?”

He lifted up the back of Cloud’s robe.

“Funny you ask that,” Cloud huffed. His cheeks were already turning red. He’d held off for too long just to wait for the Don to have him after a long spell of absence. It was one of the things he was pleased to cede to him in a compromising relationship that had done away with much of his native sense of independence. 

“You brought gifts for me from Wutai, didn’t you?”

Corneo, panting audibly, finally reached the last layer of Cloud’s clothing. “Don’t make me wait any longer, sugar.”

Cloud shivered when the Don exposed his bare skin to the air, and leaned forward onto the sink.

“Dirty old man,” he teased, spreading his feet apart, and dropping himself nearly flat against the sink to give Corneo access.

“Not too low, kitten,” Corneo purred, placing his hand between Cloud’s belly and the hard sink. “You’ll disturb my son.”

Of course, the both of them preferred the bed, but it was nice to get away from matrimonial convention every once in a while, and fuck like teenagers with no kids in a bathroom mirror.

Cloud looked at himself, breathless in the mirror, as Don Corneo roamed his hands over Cloud’s backside, admiring it’s blush and color, and then sank into him.

The Don wasn’t the biggest person, and he wasn’t as skilled in the art of love-making as he made himself out to be, but his enthusiasm and the way he worshipped Cloud had become endearing to him. It was just as his mother had told him in one of his earlier letters to her, when he confided in her about fidelity with one who was frequently absent.

_”Imperfect as your husband may be, you will always crave the comfort of his touch above all. After all, you chose him.”_

Twenty-one years old and childless at the time, Cloud could never have imagined that his mother would one day be right.

//

Tifa and Aerith came by one hot day, twirling a summer parasol that the Don had given them and carrying flowers for Cloud. Anyone who lived in the vicinity could hear them coming for miles, as the sound of their laughter and the smell of roses followed, attracting friendly gossip and, of course, bees.

Tifa had brought Marlene to play with Prince, despite the objections of her father. Both had become great friends with each other, and as soon as they saw one another, took off in the direction of the new playset that Don had ordered built.

Cloud received them with warm hugs and cheek kisses, and showed them to their seats while he allowed Scotch to pour them fresh griersam cocktails--a virgin one for Cloud.

“What happened to _him?_ ” Aerith asked, smiling uncontrollably. She was talking about the massive shiner that Scotch had acquired on his right eye, and the bloody cut across the bridge of his nose. 

Cloud shrugged and took a long sip of his drink.

“Cloud,” Tifa scolded.

“He fell.”

The girls collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“Cloud, you should really be more nice to the servants…”

Cloud thought about the moment he came home early from a visit to Madame M, and saw Scotch nearly drag a wailing Prince downstairs to be brought to Corneo. He called him a brat and swore once Prince sat on a step and wailed for Leslie, and then “mama,” refusing to move.

“Not interested.”

Their rounds of gossip were routine. They asked about Cloud’s mother, and when she would finally come, as she had frequently been delayed by poor weather and the need to assist their community: crops had not come in for the second year in a row: Tifa was considering returning home to help, but decided against it when her father assured her there was no need. 

Aerith’s flowers were taking off in the slums, much of it thanks to the Don’s influence and advertising. Every petal decorated in their home was indeed one of hers, and the Don spent many hundreds of gil each week having them delivered to surround his bride in fresh scents. She had been quite busy, and would continue to be so.

“Ladies?” 

The Don himself came from the entryway and stepped down to greet them, all smiles and charm. They usually chose days where he was absent to visit with Cloud, and they hadn’t seen him in months.

Immediately, Aerith and Tifa’s demeanor changed to obvioius discomfort, but they smiled in spite of it. 

“Don,” they both said with polite, nervous bows.

The Don was never more gentlemanlike when Cloud’s friends were around. He had even taken all of his lecherous microexpressions out of his body language, returning the bow, making comments on the lovely weather, and the music of the children playing.

Under Cloud’s watchful eye, he would never dare to do anything different.

“Sugar Plum,” he said, moving around to give Cloud a kiss on the cheek. Cloud leaned his head upward to receive it.

Tifa and Aerith exchanged looks, and waited for Corneo to be absent before saying a word.

“Cloud, is he serious?”

“Serious about what?” It was Tifa who was the least likely to give bad men another chance at change. It didn’t matter what the Don did right; she would always see what he did wrong in his past. Cloud wasn’t mad about that, though.

“He seems like he’s changed for the better,” Aerith quipped, hopefully.

Cloud shrugged. “What’s ‘for the better?’”

“Does he still… you know,” Aerith wiggled her fingers and leaned forward onto the table. “Do those _dirty_ things?”

Tifa gave Aerith a light slap on the arm. “Aerith!”

“What, like panty sniffing?” Cloud asked at a normal volume, emptying his drink, and then pulling on the bell behind him to call for more. Tifa attempted to shush him while Aerith collapsed into a fit of laughter. “Or like, the diaper thing?”

Tifa slid her head into her hands, totally mortified.

“You know I haven’t got the strength for any of that while I’m pregnant, guys.” Cloud held his glass up for Scotch, and then waved him away once he finished refilling everyone’s drinks. “If he wants to do that, he can go and drop a dime at the Honeybee.”

Aerith finally recovered long enough to ask, “Okay, so what’s this about diapers again?”

Tifa plugged her ears. “Please,” she begged. “I don’t wanna know.”

Cloud secretly delighted in making Tifa squeamish. It reminded him fondly of their childhood together, when he would bring her worms he found in the mud to try and impress her. He wanted to continue, but the children ran up, sweating and tired from running.

Prince ran right into Aerith’s knees. “It’s the Flower Lady,” he exclaimed, as she picked him up and set him in his lap to play the naming game with the other flowers in her basket.

“Miss Aerith,” Cloud corrected.

Marlene took a bright blue flower from Aerith’s basket, and walked over to Cloud.

“This one is especially for you, Miss Cloud,” she exclaimed proudly. “It matches your eyes!”

“She picked that one out for you,” Tifa said, proudly.

Cloud attempted a smile. “Thank you, Marlene.” He bent his head down so that she could fasten it into the band around his head. Behind him, the door opened.

“Oh, Leslie!” Aerith squealed. “And you’ve brought the baby...!”

//

Once Cloud was well into his second trimester and showing, his routines shifted. For example, Madam M came to visit him rather than the other way around, and he found sitting outside for long periods of time in the sun exhausting. The Don was in his quarters every night, something he wouldn’t complain about: sex while heavy with child was very different and clumsy in a way that he hadn’t quite gotten used to, but that the Don had become proficient at.

“Turn this way a bit, kitten, careful--that’s it,” he said, helping Cloud to maneuver onto his hands and knees for a perfect fit. The Don slid a large pillow beneath him to make him comfortable, and Cloud sank into, holding it beneath him. Without meaning to, he arched his back to find comfort, and the Don found something else.

“Oh _yes,_ ” he said, picking himself up on his knees behind him.

“Be gentle with me,” Cloud said softly, knowing that the Don relished any show of vulnerability in him. “And the baby.”

“Don’t you worry, kitten.” He ran his fingers through Cloud’s hair, which sent tingles down his spin, and followed the curve of his back to his ass, giving it a meaty slap.

Cloud gasped and lurched forward, holding back a laugh behind his teeth.

“Daddy always takes good care of you.” He rocked himself into Cloud, who made just a _little_ bit more noise than necessary whenever he was pleased with the Don. “Don’t I?”

His most recent trip had been to the Western Continent. The gifts he brought back included the news that he had undertaken the task of visiting Cloud’s mother, without direction, and donated a generous amount of money to his village to help with the bad harvest. It had smoothed over relations with Claudia, and she would arrive for certain within the month.

“‘The Don provides,’ indeed,” Cloud responded. Corneo panted and mounted Cloud fully, pressing him a bit further into the pillows.

“Careful, _Daddy_ ,” Cloud moaned when he felt the baby squirm inside of him. 

“Oh, sugar.” Corneo reached around and slid a hand under his belly as he fucked him. “You feel different today. Wetter than usual. Hotter than usual.” He dipped his fingers down to Cloud’s clit. “You don’t want me to leave again, do you?”

It was true: Corneo’s next trip was two weeks away, and it would take him away from the house for another indeterminate period of time. He didn’t want that. And it was also true that there were many times where he was wet and open for the Don and the Don only.

But he had been insatiable lately, and the Don was often busy. He came to bed already slick because of the petting session he’d had in the empty nursery with Leslie while the children were out with their father. Under the guise of cleaning it, they spent a good forty-five minutes making out, touching, breathing against each other’s necks.

 _The Don will kill me if he finds out,_ Leslie had said into Cloud’s ear.

 _No, he won’t._ Cloud removed Leslie’s hat, drew a hand through his white hair, and pulled him down on top of him.

Cloud had no guilt about thinking of Leslie taking him from behind in the Don’s place every now and again. After all, the Don had his side-whores. Why couldn’t he have his?

//

The dinner before their last had ended in a fight. Cloud had noticed that they ate alone, while the others were sent to either entertain the children or tend to the house.

The long moments of silence annoyed him. The Don was usually talkative during dinner, and their children were always present, so without even taking a bite of his food, Cloud set his silverware down and folded his arms.

“What are you not telling me?”

The Don froze mid-bite, took his time wiping his mouth, and then sat back in his chair.

“I’m going away for a month, my dear,” he said, solemnly. He knew he was wrong. 

“I thought it was three weeks.”

“Business has been held up quite a bit since our other two, and… well, sugar.” He chuckled nervously, and toyed with the food on his plate. “We’ve got to get caught up--”

“You’ve been gone almost this entire pregnancy.”

Cloud didn’t move an inch, but Corneo could see rage burning hot white in his blue eyes. He nearly recoiled in fear.

“Kitten--”

Cloud shoved his chair back and stormed off to his room, with, of course, the Don following him up the stairs, nearly on both hands and knees, like a discarded puppy. 

“Sugar Plum, wait!”

“I’m not talking to you.”

He slammed the door in the Don’s face. The entire household watched as he scrambled to his feet and went in after him. 

Almost as soon as the door closed, Kotch nudged Leslie with his elbow.

“Why don’t you go in after ‘em, Les? Mistress Corneo probably needs you.”

“Watch your mouth,” Leslie barked, shaking his arm free. “Don’t let the Don hear you talk about him like that.”

“Why, Les?” Scotch said in an irritating mock-whine. “Afraid he might kick your boyfriend to the curb? You might be out of a job, then.”

The two laughed in unison, like hyenas.

“Actually, it’s more like Cloud’ll whoop your ass again.”

The laughing slowed to a stop.

//

In the past, the third trimester had been his favorite time to be pregnant. He was kept spoiled and prevented from doing work, only encouraged to sit and eat, which his swollen feet were often grateful for. A well-known masseuse, sent by way of M, visited weekly, and knocked against his feet with two wooden mallets over a covering of satin.

The sensations were luxurious, and came close to sex, but not quite.

During the last few months of his pregnancy, he wore long silk robes, usually red, all adorned with Corneo’s crest in gold. He piled on the jade and gold, and wore a red band around his head for the comfort and safety of both he and the child. It had taken him quite a long time to get used to it, but it was his third time, and he wore the getup like a king.

“The baby is sitting high,” one of his new maids, the older of the two, observed. “It’s definitely going to be a girl.”

“Wiebke, stop.” The younger made, in her thirties, rolled her eyes. “Those are old wives’ tales. It’s better not to get his hopes up.”

In the earlier stages of his pregnancy, it would have been fine to have these two ladies to remind him of home, but he had become accustomed to the Don’s culture and their lavish treatment of those in late-term pregnancies. Their insistence on exercise and walking when he didn’t feel like it aggravated him. 

What he wanted was to get laid. The Don would not be home until he was nearly supposed to go into confinement--a fact that irritated him greatly and caused him to be, for a time, cold to his attentions.

There were few options, though. Asking Leslie would be overtly cruel at this point. The mountain maids’ advice were as always, “go for a walk.”

So he did, taking one of the Don’s men with him to hold a parasol that shielded him from the heat, and stopped when he noticed a Turk moving up the grand steps in the opposite direction.

//

The first and last time Cloud had seen Reno was during his first pregnancy. He was still becoming accustomed to living at the mansion, and spent most of his time cleaning and dusting the many statues and pieces of antique pottery that the Don had insisted on keeping, before Cloud had convinced him to sell them.

It was a business meeting, and Cloud went about his tasks as if nobody were there at all.

“Heya, Don, how’s it goin’?”

Reno was slight in stature, but something about him displaced the energy around him. The goons stood several feet back and were tight-lipped, and even the Don seemed more polite than usual to a male visitor. He didn’t need to look up at him to know that he was always smirking, as if he were constantly looking for a way to slip a hand into someone’s pocket.

A sleazeball.

“As you can see, quite well, my friend!”

“Haven’t seen you ‘round the Honeybee lately…”

“Oh, my dear Turk,” Corneo laughed. “I’ve done away with all that. I’m a changed man, you see?”

At that moment, Cloud happened to be bent over, polishing a stupid golden cat. He was wearing shorts, and could feel all of the eyes in the room staring at him.

“... No more Honeygirls for me!”

“Yeah, I see that!”

“Cloud, Sugar Plum!”

Cloud stopped what he was doing and stood up to face them. 

He exchanged a look with Reno, and then dropped back to his feet to complete his task.

“I’m busy,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t be shy, darling! Come ‘round and say hello!”

Tossing his rag onto the floor, Cloud stood back up and joined Corneo at his side.

“Reno, I’d like for you to meet Cloud,” he said, taking his hand. “My new Forever Bride.”

Reno stood up, but neither extended his hand nor bowed. He didn’t quite smile either.

“Mrs. Corneo,” he said, in an even voice.

They looked right into each other’s eyes, and then Cloud turned on his heel and walked off up the stairs, still listening to the men as he removed himself from their presence.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Corneo chuckled apologetically. “He’s just jittery around strangers.”

“He’ll come around, I’m sure,” Reno said. “Now, about this New Wall Market business…”

It wasn’t that Cloud had no love for Shinra or The Turks. There was definitely something attractive about that man that he, in his new relationship, had no interest in pursuing.

At that point.

//

“Thought I smelled a rat,” Cloud said as he came upon Reno.

Reno looked up from his phone. His bottom lip dropped for a moment, as if he were surprised that Cloud would be speaking to him. His wry smile spread across his face, and he gave a short bow.

“Mistress Corneo,” he said in greeting. He eyed Cloud from his sunglasses, to his swollen belly, down to his silk-covered feet, and back up. “You’re looking rather well.”

Cloud scoffed. “Save it for my husband,” he said. “That’s who you need to impress, not me.”

“Maybe the word _impress_ has a slightly different meaning where you’re from, Queenie.”

“Maybe. Maybe where you’re from, _impress_ means to kiss ass.” He took several steps toward Reno, until they were face to face. “Or stab in the back. I don’t know.”

Reno seemed to like that. He offered the crook of his arm, as if they had known each other for years. Cloud accepted it, and they walked back up the stairs.

“How many months?”

“Nearly eight.”

Reno whistled. “About to pop then, ain’tcha? Takin’ all your vitamins?”

“What do you know about it?”

Reno shrugged. “Nothin’ much. They’re a luxury down here, for sure.”

“Hm.” Cloud hadn’t thought of that, only about how they made him nauseous to all hell. “What brings you into town anyway?”

“Can’t Turks have a day off?”

“Not at the Don’s mansion, no.”

“Speaking of,” Reno stopped walking and turned to him. “Your hubby home?”

“Afraid not.”

“Where is he?”

Cloud was very close to revealing his location, but then closed his mouth and turned to Reno. “Why should I tell a Turk that information?”

“C’mon, Missus. I come as a friend.”

Cloud removed his glasses, and turned his head toward the playground, where the nannies sat with the children. On the opposite corner, the Don’s men played a game of dice on the ground.

“A friend of mine, too?”

The conversation they had with their eyes those nearly three years ago had been brief, before Cloud cut it off abruptly. Now, they could pick it back up.

“Yeah, ‘course I am, Queenie.” Cloud could just see a forked tongue slithering through Reno’s lips. 

“Why? Need somethin’ from me?”

//

“Watch the baby,” Cloud huffed against the wall in one of the hidden corners of Corneo’s compounds.

Reno reached around, and pressed a gloved hand into his belly.

“I gotcha,” he said. It was difficult to both hold up Cloud’s robes, keep his stomach from bouncing off the wall, and slide his dick in.

But once they got it, they _got_ it. Reno was bigger than the Don, and there was no need for an extreme angle. He made a vulgar groan as it sank in. Cloud’s breath caught too, and he used one hand to hold his silks up for Reno, and the other to brace himself against the wall.

“Was wondering when you were gonna come to me, princess,” Reno purred in his ear as he worked his hips up into Cloud.

“What makes you think I wanted to come to you in the first place?” Cloud was clearly grasping for straws with that one, but _hard to get_ really was his thing, and it was difficult not to respond in this way to such a cocky, arrogant piece of shit.

“C’mon baby,” Reno grunted. “I’m a Turk. You think I don’t know what it looks like when a bitch got dick in their eyes?”

Something about that made Cloud’s knees weaken. He was Mistress Corneo. The Don’s Wife. Nobody else would dare speak to him like that.

Nobody would dare fuck him like this, either.

He needed this.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Reno wheezed when he noticed that Cloud had gotten wetter. He clutched at his hips and set a quick, brutal rhythm. “Fuck, pregnant pussy hits different.”

Cloud arched into Reno, ignoring the strain on his back. “Someone’s going to hear you,” he hissed, more from pleasure than anger.

“Fuck if I care.”

Reno was fierce, nasty, and quick. He came inside Cloud without asking, and finished before Cloud could suspect that he was close.

“Fucking shithead,” Cloud said once he dropped his robes. There was a mess between his legs that he’d have to walk back with. Reno laughed at him as he tucked himself back into his pants, sticking his tongue out. Cloud swung at him, throwing himself off balance and falling.

“Woah,” Reno said, catching him by the elbow and setting him upright. “Don’t hurt yourself now, Queenie.”

Cloud snatched his elbow from Reno, and took a seat to catch his breath.

Reno took the second to gauge the wind direction, step away from Cloud, and have a cigarette. 

At least there was that, Cloud thought.


End file.
